CSi:NY Proving Ground
by A Rhea King
Summary: Annie Stohl has pled innocent even after evidence has fingered her as her rapist's killer. In a desperate attempt to clear her name, she kidnaps Detective Taylor and refuses to release him until he proves she is innocent.
1. Chapter 1

**Proving Ground**

By

A. Rhea King

**Chapter 1**

A dozen female prisoners in orange jump suits filed out of the county jail and onto the bus. They didn't speak, hardly looked at each other, but most looked straight at the guards, almost as a challenge. The guards didn't look away. They filed onto the bus and sat down, letting the guards chain their handcuffs to bars that were solidly fastened to the floor. Two guards walked on, one taking a seat in the empty bench behind the driver. The other would remain standing until they arrived at the courthouse. The bus driver climbed aboard and sat down, closing the doors. They pulled out of the yard into New York City streets and started the twenty-four block trip.

Four blocks passed in silence. The driver slowed when a van slowly pulled out of an alley in his path. The van stopped and the driver got out, opening the back, and began unloading boxes. The bus driver honked his horn. The driver ignored him. The bus driver honked again.

Gunfire came from all directions. Instinctively the guards and driver hit the floor. The inmates got down as best they can.

Four men and a woman broke through the front door, and started firing at the two guards at the front. The walking guard got up to shoot back and was shot in the chest. She fell to the floor next Annie Stohl. They stared into each other's eyes.

"No," Annie softly whispered, grabbing the guard's hand. "Melanie, stay with me. Mellie?"

Mel smiled a little, giving Annie's hand a squeeze. She opened her mouth to speak as a bullet splattered blood and brains over Annie and the area. Annie ducked back, pressing against the side of the bus. She looked up when a man appeared. He stared at her, and then held up a key.

"If you want out, put your hands up."

Annie held up her hands and he unlocked them.

"Get the fuck out of here!" he snarled, and moved to the next to last inmate.

He unlocked her cuffs and she stood, the two kissing.

"Knew you'd come for me, baby," she said.

They headed for the front of the bus. Annie looked at Melanie, and then climbed to her feet. She headed for the door, staring at the second guard and bus driver on the floor as she passed them. Annie stepped off the bus into chaos. The people in the neighborhood were frantic about what had just happened. Inmates were attacking people, beating on people for their cars or just for fun. Annie felt like she had stepped into a world of complete chaos. A movement toward her caught her attention and she focused on the last inmate striding toward her with a gun aimed at her. Was the inmate going to shoot her too?

"Move!" she ordered Annie.

Annie looked back. The bus driver was still alive, and reaching for the radio. Annie looked back at the woman.

"I'll pay you not to shoot him," Annie told him.

"What?"

"I'll pay you not to shoot him. Just shoot the radio. You'll have to get me out of here if you want the money. A thousand. Will a thousand change your mind?"

The woman hesitated. She fired over Annie's shoulder and she jumped, turning. The radio showered the guard with sparks, but he was still alive. He looked up into Annie's eyes.

"Come on," the woman told Annie.

Annie glanced at her. She paused long enough to tell the guard, "Put pressure on your head wound until help gets here."

Annie ran after the woman. They climbed into a car that sped off, away from the scene.

#

As Mac entered the police building, Regina, the receptionist, waved him over. He walked up to her desk and she held out a stack of calls.

"These all came in the hour I was out?" Mac asked.

"And they just keep coming," she answered.

Mac took the papers and headed upstairs to the crime lab. He hit the top of the stairs and was bombarded from all directions.

"Boss, I gotta problem," Danny said as he came down the hall.

From behind Lindsay called out, "Mac, I need to you to go over these results. Something's not right here."

Coming in from his left front was Stella with a stack of case files. "These all need your John Hancock, Mac."

"Oh good, you're in Mac," Hawkes said as he came out of a lab. "I need you to look over this ballistics report."

Mac pinched the bridge of his nose as the four started talking at once. He held up his hand, calmly telling them, "Wait." They didn't stop. "Wait!" he said a little louder.

That stopped everyone. He smiled, chuckling a little to let them know he wasn't angry; he just needed them to all stop talking at once.

He held up the calls. "Okay, we—"

"Detective Taylor, we gotta problem," someone yelled from down the hall.

He looked around Stella, seeing the night shift supervisor standing in his office. Standing in his door, and the culprit of yelling so the entire lab stopped to look, was DA Tom Hillary.

Mac sighed, looking at his CSI. "Sorry, guys, he gets me first. I'll come find each of you when I'm done."

"This is really important, though, Mac," Danny insisted.

"It'll have to wait for a few minutes, Danny."

Mac pushed through his CSI. He stopped and turned, holding out the calls to Stella. She exchanged them for the stack of files in her arms.

"Prioritize these and then start dividing them between us. Looks like we're getting more overtime today, guys."

They all groaned.

"Sleeeeeeep!" Danny whined as he lightly beat his head against a wall.

Mac turned away. His own sentiments echoed Danny's whine. In three days, he'd had five hour of sleep, including the hour nap he'd just taken in his car, and caffeine was starting to lose the battle against the urge to sleep. Mac looked up to see the DA had retreated back into his office, and the way he and Roland were throwing their arms around, they were fighting about something. He went into his office, and their argument prompted a headache to start forming. It was dull now, but he knew that by the end of the day, it was going to be fighting to hold onto him.

"What's the problem?" Mac asked.

"We don't have a problem," Roland answered.

"Your department lost the case files, Roland," DA Hillary snapped back at him.

"When those case files leave CSI and are entered into records, they aren't our responsibility any more, _Tom_!"

The two men started another round of arguing about whose responsibility the alleged missing files were. Mac walked around his desk and sat the files down in the only clear spot on his desk. The rest was loaded down with graveyard and swing shift cases waiting for his signature. Mac pulled off his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. He sat down, picked up a pen and started signing case files, tuning the fighting men out.

"Mac," Roland's voice said, cutting through his concentration. If that's what it was. He may have mentally dozed off since he realized he'd already signed three quarters of the stack Stella had given him – and he had no idea what they were. He looked up at the two.

"So do either of you want to tell me what this argument is about or go at it again while I finish up some work?" Mac asked.

Roland frowned. Hillary shot him a narrowed-eyed glare.

"It's about the Jared Raspton case," DA Hillary said.

That meant nothing to Mac. He returned the DA's stare with a blank stare.

"Jared Raspton, Internet entrepreneur. Two months ago he was killed by a woman he allegedly raped," Hillary added.

This still meant nothing to Mac.

"You signed off on the case, Mac," Roland told him.

Mac looked at the sea of case files surrounding him then back at Roland.

"Maybe you hadn't noticed, Roland, but that's about all I've been doing since New York citizens went on a crime spree three months ago. I'm sorry, gentlemen, I have no idea what case you're talking about."

"This is pointless," DA Hillary turned to Roland. "I need those files. The police need those files."

"Why do the police need them?" Mac asked.

"The suspect, Anastasia Stohl, was being transport for trial a week ago and escaped," Roland told him.

"I heard about that. The guard said she bribe one of the inmates not to shoot him, didn't she?"

"One small act of kindness does not mean she's a saint, Mac, and now, even if she's caught, we have nothing to prosecute her with!" Hillary snarled at Roland.

"Well, I'm sorry!"

The DA's lips thinned as he pressed them tightly together and hardened his stare on Roland.

"I can't make the files magically reappear!" Roland retorted.

"We need those files or we have no case against this woman."

"Wait, wait. Roland, we have the evidence still, right?" Mac asked.

"Without case files, we have nothing," Hillary snarled.

"I'm aware of that, Tom. Roland, wake up your CSI and—"

Flatly, Roland told him, "They aren't asleep. They haven't left."

"Okay. Well, tell them to put aside whatever they're working on and have them begin putting the case files back together. I'll have one of my CSI pull the evidence and run what tests they can."

"The crime scene hasn't been touched. We might be able to get back into his apartment," Roland told him.

"It hasn't been touched for two months?" Mac asked.

"His entire estate is wrapped in a legal dispute between the ex-wife and his parents. There's a good chance no one's been in it since he was murdered."

"Okay. Roland, get a court order and send your guys back to collect what they can."

He nodded.

Mac looked back at Hillary. "Better?"

"It's starting to be."

"Good. Now if you two don't mind, we have a lot of calls to deal with today. Please…" Mac motioned them to his office door.

He noticed Danny standing in the hallway waiting. Hillary left, but Roland hung back.

"Thank you for handling that."

"No problem. Just do what you can to keep him out of here. We're having a hard enough time keeping things smooth without a hot head DA around."

Roland flashed a smile as he left. Mac motioned Danny in.

"Weren't you working on the Hydeman case today?" Mac asked him.

"Yeah. That's what I've got a problem with. You said there might be a connection with that strangler case from SOHO last year. Remember?"

"Yes. What's the problem?"

"So, I went down to the evidence locker to check out that case evidence, and Simon asked why I didn't send my assistant down to get the stuff. I thought he was playing and told him I wish I had one. Then he got mad. Said I was the one playing. Told me this kid picked up evidence for me last night, even showed him my badge." Danny lifted the badge on his belt, showing Mac his badge. "I have my badge, showed it to him. He says the badge the kid showed him was mine, same number, everything. Then I remembered I lost mine when I was investigating this murder a few days ago and had to have a hundred deducted off my check to get this one."

"I remember."

"So now Simon won't let me check out anything until he talks to you."

Mac pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. The headache was growing.

"You okay, Mac?"

"Yeah." He picked up his the receiver of his desk phone and dialed a number.

"Evidence, Officer Fredrick," Simon answered.

"Simon, Mac. Seems we have some confusion."

"I'm not confused. That CSI of yours is. He comes down here, tells me he doesn't have an assistant, and gets mad when I say his joke isn't funny."

"Simon, Danny doesn't have an assistant. No CSI does."

There was a minute of silence. "Then we gotta problem, Mac."

"It would appear so. So what was checked out by this assistant?"

"Hold on. I gotta go look at the board." Hold music came on.

Mac looked up at Danny. His eyes were drooping, heavy with lack of fatigue.

"Danny, sit down before you fall over."

Danny fell into his chair. Mac watched him doze off and wished for a moment he could doze off. He turned his attention back to the phone when the hold music cut off.

"Here's the case number," Simon said.

Mac grabbed a pad of paper and pen. "Okay."

"Case number is NYPS0433437."

"Got it. Simon, he needs the evidence he came to get. Can he come back for it?"

"What about the badge the kid showed me?"

"It was stolen."

"Okay. Send him back."

Mac hung up, turning to his computer. "Danny."

"Hm?"

"Go back down."

Danny got up and walked toward the door. "Are we going to get a day off sometime soon?"

Mac looked up at him. He stopped when Mac didn't answer. Mac smiled sympathetically.

"I hope so. Bring the evidence up and then why don't you go home for a few hours?"

"What about everyone else?"

"I'm going to start sending all of you home for a couple hours. We can't keep working like this. We're bound to make a mistake."

Danny nodded. "Thanks, Mac."

Mac nodded, turning back to his computer.

"Does that mean you to?"

"Only after you five have had some time."

Mac heard Danny leave and focused on his screen. He pulled up the case number Simon gave him.

"Jared Raspton again." He sat back, staring at the screen for a moment. Then dialed another number. "Roland. We have a problem with the Rapston evidence. All of it's been stolen too."

#

Mac climbed into bed and collapsed. In minutes, his breathing slowed as he slipped toward deep sleep.

His cell phone started ringing and his eyes slowly opened, staring at the glowing device beside his bed. He sighed, looking at the alarm clock next to it. 2:37 AM glowed back in blue. He reached out and answered the phone on the last ring.

"Mac Taylor."

"I woke you, didn't I?" Stella asked. 'I'm sorry,' was already in her voice even if she never said it.

"What's going on?"

"We have a quadruple at forty-seventh and Broadway. Looks gang related, but it's just me."

"Where's everyone else?"

"Everywhere. We don't have anyone else left. Roland even called in swing to help out tonight."

Mac rolled onto his side, yawning.

"I'm sorry, Mac. You haven't had a day off in three weeks."

"It's okay. If you need me, you need me. Give me thirty minutes."

"Thirty?"

"Forty?"

"Better. I'll see you soon. Should I save anything good?"

"Yeah. Of course."

She chuckled. "Okay."

Mac hung up and drug himself out of bed. He fumbled for the bedside lamp switch and dressed.

#

Mac trotted out of his apartment building, looking through his keys as he strolled across the street. He heard metal clink against metal and turned. He didn't see anything in the darkness. He turned back to his CSI Tahoe as he separated its key from the rest and pushed the unlock button. With a flash of lights and soft beep, the car let him know the door was now unlocked. Mac reached for the door handle and a shadow separated from the rear of the Tahoe in his peripheral vision. He turned, reaching for his gun, but froze. The person already had theirs aimed at him. A hooded sweatshirt hid the person's face. In a quick glance, Mac saw a lot: the sweatshirt was plain, the person wore gloves, and the gunman was short, probably not much taller than five foot.

"Mac Taylor?" the person asked. It was a woman, he couldn't judge the person's age by the tone, but she sounded young.

He didn't answer.

"Are you Mac Taylor? Cuz if you're not I'll have to kill you."

"Yeah."

"Get in and get over."

He held out the keys. "Here. Take it."

"I don't want the car. Get in and get over."

His brow furrowed. "You don't want the car? But you want me to get in? I don't understand."

"You're annoying me. That could be bad for your kneecaps."

Mac slowly obeyed, climbing over the dividing console into the passenger seat. The person got in and quickly adjusted the seat for their height. Even with the dome light on, he couldn't see the person's face, just the tip of her nose.

"Put the key in the ignition and start it," she ordered him.

He did as she told him. She tapped the lock button on the door, locking all the doors. A kidnapper or carjacker that was paranoid or precautious? That was dangerous.

"Put your seatbelt on."

"Why?"

"Put on your seatbelt."

He obeyed. She pulled her seatbelt on and snapped it in, but never took the gun off him doing it. She put the car in gear with her left hand and pulled out onto the street. They drove in silence for a few blocks.

"What is this about?"

"Well talk later. When there's not an in-dash camera and microphone recording us."

She'd done her homework if she knew his vehicle had those – most of the CSI vehicles didn't. He watched where they went so he could tell someone later – if there was a later. She pulled into the parking lot of a large company and went to the far end where a white Passat waited.

She parked the Tahoe, telling him, "Turn it off."

He obeyed and the doors automatically unlocked. Mac's cell phone started ringing and he instinctively reached for it. She lunged at him, pressing the gun against his head. Not at his temple, but into his hair.

"Whoever it is, you will be there soon, or you will call them back because of traffic. You will not say anything else. Understood?"

He nodded slowly as he answered.

"Mac," he said.

"Hey. Did you want me to pick up some coffee?" Stella asked.

"No. I'll be there soon."

"Okay. Well, two of the bodies came back to known gang members. So—"

"Stella, I need to call you back. The traffic here on Clifton is backed up."

Stella hesitated. Did she notice the unusual comment? Or the name of a street he'd never use to get to forty-seventh and Broadway?

"How bad is it, Mac?" she asked.

"Pretty bad. I'll be tied up for a while. No escaping it."

"Hang up now," the kidnapper whispered.

"Stella, I gotta go. This looks pretty nasty. Bye."

The kidnapper grabbed the phone and closed it before he heard Stella's response. The person dropped it in the cup holder.

"Put your sidearm on the floor, under the seat."

He did as she told him.

"Get out your side."

Mac obeyed and she climbed out behind him. She tapped the door lock button again and shut the door, then motioned him to move.

"Go around to the back," she told him.

Mac did as she ordered.

"Pull off the cardboard."

He looked down, seeing she'd taped a piece of cardboard taped over the license plate with black electrical tape. He pulled it off.

"Passenger side."

He walked around and she dug keys from her jeans pocket. She tapped the unlock button on the key and the car greeted them as his Tahoe had earlier.

"Get in and buckle up."

He got in and obeyed. She crouched down next to him, pulling a syringe from her sweatshirt pocket.

"What is that?"

"It's harmless." She looked up at him and he saw her face for the first time.

"Anastasia Stohl," Mac loudly announced. He hoped the microphone in his Tahoe would catch the name.

She didn't say anything. She reached up and injected the fluid in the syringe into his neck. The drug worked fast and he started feeling tired right away.

"Why are you kidnapping me?" he asked her.

"Go to sleep, Mac. You can't help me if you're tired."

He didn't want to obey, but the drug didn't give him a choice. He heard the door close softly as he faded to sleep.

#

Stella was finishing her notes when Flack walked up to her. He leaned in so he could talk quietly.

"Where is he?" Flack asked.

She pulled her cell phone off her belt, dialing Mac's number again. She let it ring until it went to voicemail.

"No answer."

"I don't like this, Stella. He would have called if he weren't coming."

She agreed. She watched coroner load the bodies into their vehicles. She and Hawkes had already finished the scene. The evidence collected. Mac should have been here before they had even started searching the area for evidence.

"Let's stop by his place before we go back," Stella said.

Flack nodded. "Maybe I should ask them to get a hold of Lo-Jack."

"Yeah. I've gotta bad feeling about this. When he said there was traffic, I should have known something was wrong. That just sounded wrong."

"Don't beat yourself up over it. It was a perfectly normal answer."

She frowned. Hawkes walked up to them, looking at Stella's phone.

"No answer still?"

She shook her head. "Finish up here. We're going to go by his place."

He nodded. Stella and Flack headed into the crowd of onlookers toward Flack's car.

#

Stella pounded on Mac's apartment door. "MAC!" she yelled.

It brought another neighbor to the door. She looked up when Flack came up the steps two at a time. He shook his head.

"The Tahoe is gone. His car is here."

"Has Lo-Jack found it yet?"

"Not yet. The manager's coming up with the key."

Stella's phone rang. "Stella, I have an address from Lo-Jack," Lindsey told her.

"Just a sec. Flack, I need a piece of paper and pen."

He dug his notepad out and tore her out a page, handing it over with his pen.

"Go," Stella said.

Lindsey rattled off the address. "Do you want us to check it out?"

"No, Lindsey. We have too much work there. Flack and I will go check it out."

"Okay. Let us know what you find out. That building is a software company. There's no reason he should be there."

"I'll call you."

Stella hung up as the manager came to the top of the stairs. She stepped back to let him unlock the door. The two walked in, but there were no clues to tell them what had happened to their boss.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

In the background a sad, mellow song played. The male singer softly lamented about something he'd done, something that had changed him. It was a song his favorite radio station might play, and Mac wondered: had he fallen asleep reading. He hadn't done that in years, not since Claire died. When she was alive, he'd wake up on those lazy days and find her watching him sleep. He missed that. More so today as he lay warm and comfortable in his recliner, he missed it even more.

He smelled lavender and the even subtler scent of cinnamon. That was a strange mix of scents for his apartment. Mac started to stretch as he woke up. The relaxation of waking naturally from sleep was instantly broken when something stopped his left wrist from moving any further. He opened his eyes, looking at it. His wrist was handcuffed to a pipe behind the oversized, ratty recliner he was sitting in. Mac looked around him.

Sitting at a worn linoleum top table a few feet away was Annie Stohl. She was typing on a laptop, looking like she was in deep thought. Mac looked past her. There was a full sized bed against the far wall, a small kitchen on the other side. Wide strips of heavy plastic divided this room from the one beyond. The room beyond looked like a laboratory with a wide array of equipment sitting on white counters. Overhead bare bulbs shone down from industrial style fixtures, covered by wire safety cages. He realized they were in the basement of a building. Mac looked back at Annie.

"Why did you kidnap me?" he asked her.

She glanced at him, but didn't stop typing.

"Look, if there's someone else involved, someone that put you up to kidnapping me, just let me go. We'll get out of here and they'll be the ones to take the fall for this."

She stopped typing with a couple key strokes, waited two seconds and closed her laptop. She turned in her chair, staring at him.

"You were talking to Claire before you woke up. Who is she?"

Mac didn't answer the question. That was a private memory, not for a kidnapper or a kidnapper's accomplice. Annie shrugged, looking away.

"Doesn't matter. I thought you were going to sleep forever. You've been asleep for three days."

"You drugged me."

She looked at him. "The sedative was only for two to three hours. Four at the most. Guess you've been working too much."

"So no one else is involved in my kidnapping?"

"No."

"Why did you kidnap me?"

"Yes. Let's discuss that." She stood and picked up her chair. She brought it over to the recliner and sat down in front of him, crossing her legs as if this was a casual conversation between acquaintances. "I need you to prove I didn't kill Jared Raspton," she quietly told him.

Mac watched her face for any sign that she might be lying. His eyes went to the gun she had holstered at her side.

"I can't help you," he told her

"Yes you can. You are the CSI that signed off on my case. I've researched you and you have worked on many cases. Do not insult me with lies."

She was well spoken. She didn't look old enough to be so educated. "How old are you?"

"I am thirty-one. Is that important to your decision?"

"I've known younger killers."

"I did not kill Jared Raspton."

"You don't appear upset by the matter."

She leaned forward. "How long should I cry because I've been accused of murder? How long should I be rant in anger? Moreover, to whom should I rant? You? Would that change your mind in helping me?"

Mac thought about her questions. He had a deep sense of dread because he honestly didn't know anything about her case. He didn't know what she had been like when she'd been arrested. He didn't know what she'd been like during her interview. Would it anger her if she found out he never actually read her case file? He'd never verified the CSI's results, or checked for inconsistencies? There hadn't been time in three months to do that, he'd had to trust the CSI in his lab to do their jobs and do them correctly.

"I don't know," Mac honestly answered.

She sat back. "You _never_ even read the file before you signed it, did you?"

"Not the entire file, no, but I remember some of the case."

"But you remember _some_ of the case…" She slowly shook her head, disappointed in his answer. "I was hoping this would take less time. Some of the evidence is time sensitive, after all."

Mac suddenly heard a clue. "You stole your own case files and evidence?"

"I did."

"How'd you get Danny's badge?"

"That was luck. I had been watching all the CSI for a month, trying to figure out who was who. He dropped his at a crime scene and I realized its potential in helping me get the files and evidence."

"You talk very precise, very selective. You're well educated."

"Do many well educated people commit murders as barbaric as Jared Raspton's was?"

"Sometimes."

She lifted her chin. She was judging him, weighing his answer.

"Didn't you claim that Jared Raspton raped you?" Mac asked.

"Yes. I was working for a catering company at one of his parties and he forced me into a room and raped me. I believe it was four times, but I don't remember with accuracy."

"And there was no proof of the rape, as I recall."

"He was careful so of course no one believed me."

"And then you just happened to deliver a package to a residence he was at?"

"I did not know he was there, Detective Taylor. When I arrived at the residence, the door was ajar. I went in and found him on the floor with a knife in his chest."

"And you didn't call the police?"

"Yes. I did. Immediately. I then checked to see if he was alive."

"If he raped you, why would you do that?"

She sighed. "Because I'm not the monster he was." She looked somewhere else. "Ever since that moment I wish I was. Maybe I wouldn't be in this situation then." She returned her eyes to his. "Detective Taylor, he did rape me, so if you think I'm going to apologize for not mourning his death, you're sorely mistaken. Do you really believe that I was the only woman he raped? I'm sure there are other women out there that wanted him dead, maybe even one that was responsible for stabbing him eighteen times."

Mac shifted in the chair. He realized he needed to use the restroom very bad but didn't feel now was the right time to ask. Annie, however, was as observant as he was and noticed the slight face of discomfort.

"You are uncomfortable after sleeping for three days, aren't you?"

"Uncomfortable?"

"You need to relieve yourself."

He didn't answer.

She nodded a couple times. "Allow me to present a proposal."

"A kidnapper that has a proposal? That's different."

She didn't smile or get mad, just stare at him, waiting for some indication he was going to listen to her proposal.

"You will interview me, again, just you and me this time, no cameras or ten hours in a small room without water or a break. For starters."

Already he saw a problem with the case. "You were questioned for ten hours?"

"Yes."

"Without a break?"

"I have the tapes of all ten hours if you'd like to watch it as proof."

"And what's the rest of the proposal?"

"Next, you will look over the case files; _thoroughly_ this time. Then you will visually examine the evidence. After that, we will again discuss your choice of helping me."

"And what happens when I determine you're still guilty? I die?"

She slowly shook her head. "I hated Jared Raspton, but I did not kill him. I couldn't even do it when I had the chance while he was raping me."

Mac stared at her. She'd had a chance to kill him before? Did she mention that during the interview?

"I want to see the tapes."

"This moment?"

"No. This moment I'd like to use the restroom."

She stood and dug a handcuff key out of her pocket. She looked down at him.

"We are in an abandon factory on the edge of a town. It's been abandon for years and no one comes around. So screaming will only make your throat sore. The door has four locks and I'm wearing the only keys. Does this help you make a decision about attempting to escape?"

They stared at each other, unflinching.

"Yeah."

She unlocked his handcuff and stepped back, motioning to a door.

"There are clothes in the second milk crate for you. I had to go to the thrift store for them. They aren't the quality you might prefer, but they're clean."

Mac got up and walked into the bathroom. He looked back at her.

"You didn't answer my question, Annie. What if I find you are still guilty of your crime?"

"You'll go to sleep again and wake up somewhere safe."

Mac looked into her eyes. He couldn't perceive any lie. Would she keep that promise?

Mac turned and closed the door behind him, sliding the hook on it through the eye screw. He turned, fumbling for the string he'd seen before he'd closed the door. He pulled it and the light revealed a small, windowless bathroom. Against one wall, there were milk crates that had been stacked on their sides on top of each other. One had towels. The next had clothes in his size. The last one had clothes in her size. He sorted through the clothes, picked out a change, and turned to the shower. He decided to delay this as long as he could, give himself time to think of a way to get free. Mac reached in the shower and started the water.

#

Mac's Tahoe sat in a space of the garage. Hawkes went over the passenger side with his flashlight, carefully pulling out any trace he could find. Lindsey was at the back, going over the empty trunk. Danny moved slowly over the driver's seat.

At the front, Adam had a laptop resting on the hood, cables attaching to ports just under the hood. He anxiously watched the screen while the audio and video from the vehicle's hard drive download. A window popped on the screen to indicate the download had finished.

"Okay, guys. I got it," Adam announced.

The three CSI crowded around him. Adam started it playing. There was nothing at first, and then they heard sound from behind the camera. They heard the commands of the kidnapper, a quiet female voice.

"A woman kidnapped him?" Danny said.

No one answered.

"Why would she tell him to put on his seatbelt?" Lindsay said.

She looked back when Stella stood close to her, watching the screen with them. Then they heard the kidnapper tell him she knew about the camera and mic.

"She knew this was here. Great," Lindsay grumbled.

They watched as the Tahoe drove through the streets and into the parking lot.

"There," Danny said, pointing at the car.

"In a minute," Adam told him.

The Tahoe was turned off and they heard Mac's cell phone ring. The kidnapper told him what to say and they heard his end of the conversation with Stella. The call ended and she ordered him to leave his phone and sidearm. The door alarm chimed when the dome light came on again and they got out and the door closed. For another five minutes, the camera recorded. They could hear the two talking for another minute, but they were too far away from the Tahoe to make out anything. They saw headlights come on next to the Tahoe and then fade out as the Passat left.

Adam stopped the video and backed up to when they first saw the Passat. He zoomed in on the back and pulled it up. They all felt the same let down when they saw that the license plate of the car was covered by cardboard.

"She probably didn't leave with it covered, that would have attracted police," Stella began. "I'll go back out and see if it's in that parking lot. Lindsay, pull his credit cards. See if she used any of them."

"I'll see if I can do anything with that soft audio. Maybe we'll get lucky," Adam said.

"Good idea. Danny, Hawkes, are you two done with the vehicle?" Stella asked.

"I am," Hawkes answered.

"Naw. I'm almost done," Danny told her.

"Ok. Danny, finish up here. If you find anything, it takes priority. We're still backlogged on cases, so while you're waiting for evidence to process or me to call you, work on your other cases.

The two men nodded and the group dispersed. Danny turned back to the driver's seat. There was nothing on it. He dropped to the floor and his attention was caught by a small bit of mud caught in the grooves of the pedal. He grabbed a piece of paper from his kit and carefully scraped it onto the paper. Danny folded it and then headed back upstairs to have it analyzed.

#

Danny looked up when lab tech, Kiffany, dropped a piece of paper at his elbow.

"This is pretty common dirt," she said, handing him the bag of trace he found. "Nothing really surprising. Until I stuck it in a chromatograph. There's trace iron in it, higher than normal. I pulled some out, it's been refined."

"An iron mill?"

"Yeah."

"That narrows it to most of the eastern seaboard."

She smiled, crossing her arms. "But, there's more."

"Dazzle me."

"I found a pine beetle carcass in it too. Its particular genus only comes for the Catskills. I know it doesn't narrow it down much, but it may help."

"Thanks, Kiffany."

"Yep." She left.

Danny dialed Stella's cell phone.

"Yeah?" Stella answered.

"I found some mud on a pedal. Trace came back and they've narrowed it down to the Catskills. You think this kidnapper would have left the state?"

"I don't know. We don't know what she wanted."

"Well, wherever it is, it's around an iron mill."

"That doesn't narrow it down much, either."

"Any luck finding what was covering the license plate?"

#

Stella had climbed into the stiff bushes bordering the parking lot in search of the cardboard. No sooner had Danny asked when her flashlight flashed across a piece of cardboard with black electrical tape on it – just like the piece in the video.

She smiled. "You must be magic, Danny. I just found it. Start doing a search for VW Passat with the trace restrictions. See if you find anything."

"On it."

Stella hung up and pushed branches out of her way to reach the cardboard. She held it up, shining her flashlight across it. No trace or prints jumped out at her. Maybe there would be when she took it back to the lab. Stella started climbing out of the bushes.

#

Mac sat on a bar stool at the end of the counter slowly reading the case file. He reached down and scratched where the ankle cuff was rubbing against his leg. He had watched her put the strange looking contraption on. It looked like something that came straight out of the Middle Ages. He pulled at it, glaring down at the chain. She'd sunk a large bolt into the floor with a chain that she'd welded to the ankle cuff. He looked up at her. She sat at the other end of the counter, typing away. Books surrounded her and she kept stopping to read them as she worked.

"You never did tell me why you put an ankle cuff on me," Mac said.

She took a drink from her glass before she answered. It reminded him of another interesting fact about her. She was taking good care of him. When he asked for food and drink, no matter how many times he asked, she got it. When he said he was tired, she let sleep and let him wake up on his own. He had to keep reminding himself that she was a kidnapper just to keep hating her.

"You're trained as a Marine. You really think I'm going to trust you to roam around here with sharp instruments and chemicals?" She looked over the top of her laptop at him.

He shrugged. "I thought you might."

She didn't smile or comment. She simply went back to typing.

Mac looked down at the file under his hands, then the boxes of evidence sitting on another counter nearby. Surround him was a variety of equipment, everything he needed for a small crime lab.

"So, where did you get all this equipment?"

"I borrowed it."

He looked back at her. "You mean you stole it."

"I borrowed it. It's going back when we're done."

"Taking things without people knowing, especially if you break in to get it, is considered stealing."

"Only by law."

"You're smart enough to know that's not true."

Then she surprised him again with an unexpected humorous line. "Perhaps I'm insane from trying to finish my thesis before deadline. Do you think that would be a good insanity plea?"

He smiled when she looked up. She didn't smile, but he could tell by the way her eyes relaxed that she was joking.

"No. I'm afraid not."

She shrugged, going back to work.

"Thesis for what?"

"That's not important."

"You said I could interview you."

She stopped typing, leaning on the counter. "Is that what we're doing now?"

Mac pushed the file aside, grabbed a pad of paper and pen, and looked up at her. "Yeah. I think it's time we do that."

She closed her laptop, focusing on him.

"Did you go to an emergency room after you were raped?"

She nodded.

"Did they collect a rape kit?"

She hesitated.

"Did they or not?"

"Not… Not all of it." She looked down.

"Why not?"

She closed her eyes, letting her head drift to the side. She looked up at him and tried to answer. Before she could several tears fell.

"I was a virgin. I… Couldn't let them… Finish."

Mac stared at her. "You're thirty-one."

"Yes."

"That's surprising in this day and age."

"I didn't feel it was important in my life."

"Ever?"

She slowly shook her head. "How is this important?"

"It helps me figure out who you are."

"And what does it tell you? I'm a prude?"

"No. You're focused on your education, perhaps a little too much."

She slowly nodded, looking away. "Perhaps."

"What did they collect?"

"They used the comb, swabbed the exterior. I stopped them then."

Mac looked back at the evidence boxes behind him. He got up and opened them, searching for the rape kit. He found it at the bottom of the third box and pulled it out. He found an envelope with hairs.

"Where's the swabs?" he asked

"In the refrigerator."

He turned, seeing the miniature refrigerator under one counter. He crouched down and opened it, finding all the evidence that needed kept cold. He found the swabs and read the labels. He jotted some notes on the pad and then sat back on the stool.

"Okay, let's talk about that day. You were working for On Time Delivery then?"

"Yes."

"Were you still catering?"

"No. Why?"

"Just asking. Did you recognize the address 9234 thirty-fifth avenue?"

"No."

Mac opened up the case file, flipping through pages. "You didn't recognize the name Michelle Rapston?"

"No."

He looked up at her. "Rapston didn't ring a bell?"

"If it had been the month or two after he'd raped me, perhaps. However, I stopped being paranoid about the name after that. It was pointless. Besides, it was for a Michelle. A woman. I didn't suspect anything."

Mac wet his fingers and flipped back a few pages. "She asked for you specifically, your boss told the police."

"My boss didn't tell me that. She just gave me the package, told me to be fast, like she always did."

Mac nodded. "Looks like she said there wasn't anything special about the request. She said you were one of her top delivery people. Several executives asked for you on a daily basis. That wouldn't have probably grabbed her attention either."

Annie didn't comment.

"Okay. I'm going to put the police report aside for a minute and I want to hear from you what happened when you arrived at the apartment.

Annie closed her eyes and told him what she remembered…

#

THREE MONTHS EARLIER

Annie trots up the steps of the brownstone apartment building. She refers to her deliver pad and stops at a door. She turns to the apartment door behind her and stares. The door's ajar and lights are on inside. She slips the delivery pad into the holster on her belt and balances the package on one hand. She slowly approaches the door and knocks.

"On Time Delivery," she announces.

The door swings open when she knocks. She sees blood.

"Hello?" Annie calls.

Slowly she walks into the apartment. At the corner and edge of the blood pool, she sees Jared Raspton. He's lying on his back with a knife stuck in his chest, right into his heart. She—

#

PRESENT

"Wait a minute," Mac said, interrupting the story.

She looked at him. "What?"

Mac pulled the case file out, and then he pulled out other files. "Where's the coroner's report?"

She didn't answer. He looked up at her, seeing the surprise on her face.

"You didn't get the coroner's report?" Mac asked.

"I thought it was with the other files. Aren't they normally?"

"Normally, unless the coroner hasn't filed them yet."

"It was three months ago."

"You don't know Sid. Okay. Come here."

Mac stood up.

She walked up, stopping two feet from him.

"No, come here."

She didn't move any closer. Mac looked her in the eyes.

"Annie, this is going to require some semblance of trust if you want my help. I need you to come here."

She approached him like a wary stray dog and stopped right in front of him. He picked up his pen and handed it to her.

"Without the coroner's report I can't really tell where the wounds were. But the general CSI's view said that most of them were above the sternum." Mac held his hand about where his sternum was. He stared at her, realizing something strange. She was short. Very short. Her forehead was at his hand.

"And the guy was about my height, give or take a few inches," Mac said to himself. He grabbed her hand holding the pen and lifted it up. "If… If the knife was in his heart." Mac brought her hand with the pen aimed like a knife to his heart. He stared at her hand that stopped the pen under his heart. "Do you work out, Annie?"

"No."

"Do you do any physical activities? Play sports?"

"I jog"

Mac shook his head, stepping back and staring at her hand. "You're too short."

"What does that mean?"

Mac crossed his arms. "It means that you either have some impressive upper body strength, you jumped at him to drive the knife into his heart, or you had an accomplice."

"An accomplice? Did the neighbor that came running when I screamed for help mention seeing anyone running from the scene?"

He shook his head. "No mention. That doesn't mean anything right now."

She threw the pen on the counter and stormed away.

"What?" Mac asked.

She turned at the plastic strips, glaring at him. "I'm going to get some Chinese. Do you want any?"

"Why are you mad?"

"This was a complete waste of time. I risked everything on a hope you'd actually think outside the box! Now I suddenly have an accomplice. Great work Detective Taylor!"

She stormed into the living area and pulled on a hooded sweatshirt and heavy coat.

"Annie, wait."

She turned, or at least he thought she had.

"Okay. I'll go on the presumption, for now, that there was no accomplice. If that's the case, I don't know how you stabbed him."

"And there you go again!" She headed for the door.

"You could have run and jumped."

"And I could have suddenly grew another foot, and then magically lost it before the police arrived. I'm sure that's something the neighbor that helped me wouldn't have noticed."

He heard her starting to unlock the locks.

"Hot and sour soup with won ton in it," Mac told her.

She stopped. "What?"

"I like hot and sour soup with won ton in it. Bring me that back and I'll work on one piece of evidence."

She turned again. "Swindler."

"_You_ kidnapped _me_, remember?"

"Okay. Fine." She stepped through the door, and then suddenly appeared. "And for your information, Detective, you'd have to be Sloth to get out of that ankle cuff. It was made for Houdini."

"Who's Sloth?" Mac asked as the door closed.

He heard her lock it several times and then it was silent. He looked around for a tool to work on the lock. Mac spotted a scalpel just at the edge of the counter. He had to stretch but finally got it. He crouched down and looked for a lock. He let out a frustrated breath. The ankle cuff was made for Houdini. There was no lock, only levers. Mac dropped the scalpel and attempted to figure it out. After ten minutes, he knew that unless Houdini's ghost suddenly appeared, he wasn't getting out of the ankle cuff. He went back to his stool, glared at the pad of paper for a minute. He turned, looking at the evidence boxes. He walked to one and took out the knife.

"Well… Here goes nothing."

Mac picked up the scalpel and walked over to another counter. He used a dissection pan to sterilize the scalpel with rubbing alcohol and dried it. Mac pulled on a pair of gloves and carefully he removed the knife from the bag, placing it in another dissection pan. He found a small screwdriver in a drawer and carefully pulled the knife apart. Using a cotton swab, he took blood off the piece that attached into the knife handle and prepared to run it for DNA. Now he'd have to wait for Annie to come back for a comparison sample.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Stella smiled as she pulled the piece of cardboard from the fume hood. There was a partial fingerprint on the electrical tape. She carefully moved it under a digital camera and took a picture of it. She moved to an AFIS computer and started the search. She looked up when Hawkes stopped next to her.

"A fingerprint?"

"Yeah."

They watched for several minutes until 'No Match' came up on the screen. Stella stood and pushed her fingers into her hair.

"I have an idea," Hawkes said.

He printed out an enlarged fingerprint and used a pen to draw out lines. Stella moved in next to him, watching. He put it in the scanner and scanned it in, then began the search again.

The fingerprint hit almost instantly and Annie Stohl's police record populated the screen.

"Annie Stohl," Stella said, walking up next to him.

"How'd you guess?" Adam's voice said behind her.

She turned. He held a mini tape recorder in his hand.

"What?"

"That's what Mac said. Here, listen." Adam pushed play as he handed it to her.

The two CSI listened to the conversation between Mac and Annie. Danny and Lindsay came in while it was playing and kept silent, listening too. Stella squinted a little when he heard Annie tell Mac, "Go to sleep, Mac. You can't help me if you're tired."

Stella stopped the tape, staring at the recorder.

"He can't help her if he's tired?" Stella asked.

"That's not exactly something you'd hear a kidnapper say if they were planning on hurting him," Lindsay remarked.

"And she hasn't called to ask for ransom. So apparently this isn't about money," Danny pointed out. "So what does this crazy woman want?"

Hawkes looked at Danny. "Wait a second. I heard a report about her case last night on the news. She's been pleading innocent since this started."

"All criminals plead innocent, whether they are or aren't," Lindsay shot back.

"Yeah, but… The case files and evidence are missing. What if she took them? What if she wants Mac to prove she's innocent?"

"That's pretty farfetched, Sheldon," Stella told him.

"But she's on the surveillance cameras getting them," Adam said.

The four looked at him. "Yeah. So that's the other thing I was going to tell you," he said to Stella. "When I heard that, I pulled the footage for the night the files and evidence were checked out. The boy everyone saw is her." He points at the file on the computer. "She's just dressed like a boy. Same face, same bone structure. She took her own case files and evidence."

"Okay. Okay." Stella gave Adam the recorder back. "So for the moment, we'll go with Sheldon's theory that she's trying to prove she's innocent. So if that's the case, why would she want Mac?"

"He's a CSI?" Danny asked.

"We're all CSI, and I'm sorry to say, guys, we're low profile compared to Mac. Taking one of us would have drawn far less media attention to her than taking the head of CSI."

"So maybe it's about the media attention," Hawkes suggested.

"No." Lindsay shook her head. "If she wanted the attention, she would have made a statement by now."

"He signed her case file," Danny suggested. "Maybe it's revenge."

"Do you know that for a fact?"

"Geeze, Stella, he's been signing case files without looking at them for months. We haven't had a break for a while now. I'm sure her's crossed his desk."

"But the nightshift had her case. Why Mac?"

"He's in charge?" Lindsay asked.

Stella nodded. "That does make some sense. Danny, did you get anything searching for a Passat?"

Danny frowned. "White Passat's around iron mills are popular. I have a list of about five places we could start with, all with dozens of white Passats in the area. I've already put calls into local Sherriff's for help. The best one seemed to be Loch Sheldrake. The sheriff told me he's seen a couple around town that he doesn't recall seeing before, but it is spring break so he wasn't sure. He said if we wanted to come up and look he'd be happy to help out."

"Go. Check it out. Take Lindsay."

The two left.

"Back to my other cases until I get word?" Hawkes asked.

She nodded. He and Adam both left her standing alone. She looked at Annie Stohl's profile. She wanted to hate the woman, but if she was trying to prove her innocence, and she was innocent, it was hard to.

#

Lindsey and Danny were frustrated. They didn't have to tell each other that they knew there were no leads in Loch Sheldrake. This was a small community, and so far, they'd interviewed forty people about their white VW Passat and there were no leads. So they'd decided to start walking the streets and see if they saw anything, or Annie, or Mac, themselves. So far that hadn't proven helpful either.

Lindsey stopped, looking across the street at a Chinese restraint. This town sure did love Chinese. It had four of them.

"Want to get something to eat?" Lindsey asked.

Danny hadn't noticed she'd stopped. He stopped and turned, then looked across the street.

"Chinese? Naw. I only go to one place for it."

She nodded, looking at the other culinary offerings on the street. Suddenly she looked back at the restaurant.

"Danny… Danny!"

"What?"

"What's that thing you always complain about? You complain about it every time we order Chinese with Mac. It's something orders. What is it he orders that's so strange?"

Danny thought a moment. "Hot and sour soup with won tons in it. Why?"

"Okay," she turned to him. "So far we've figured out Annie stole all the evidence and files in the Jared Raspton case, then she kidnapped Mac, who was the lead investigator on the case. Right?"

"To get back at him for putting her in jail?"

"No. No, Danny."

"What if this isn't about revenge? She's pled innocent through this entire thing. Her story has never changed. What if she took him to convince him she's innocent?"

"You got all that from Chinese soup?"

"No. But it makes my idea make sense. We need to ask all these restaurants if they've had any take out orders of hot and sour soup with won tons in it. If they are, then we have to start searching the iron mills."

"Based on Chinese soup?"

"Do you know anyone else that orders that?"

Danny thought about it. "No."

"I'll take the two across the street. You take these two on this side."

Lindsey turned and jogged across the street. Danny headed down the street to the one they'd passed.

#

Lindsey entered the Paper Lantern at the edge of Loch Sheldrake and smiled as the walked up to the slight oriental woman behind the cash register.

"One?" the woman asked, picking up a menu.

"Oh. No. I'm with the New York Crime Lab." Lindsay produced her badge. "I was wondering if you've had anyone come in here that placed an unusual soup order. Hot and sour soup with won ton in it."

The woman's brow dipped and Lindsay's face fell. She braced herself for no.

"Yes," the woman answered.

Lindsay's jaw about dropped and then she shook her shock. "Yes?"

"Every day she comes in, orders a large order and enough food for six people. Always the same order too."

"Does the order include Moo Shoo Pork or General Toa's chicken, with white rice?" Lindsay asked.

"Yes. Always that, and sweet and sour pork with extra sauce and fried rice. No egg rolls. That's strange. Everyone always orders egg rolls."

Lindsay smiled. "Has she been in today?"

"Yes. She comes in around noon every day for the last four days."

Lindsay looked at her watch. That was six hours ago. She was long gone by now. Lindsay fished a business card out of her pocket, grabbed a pen and circled her cell number. She handed the card to the woman.

"Can you call me if she comes in tomorrow? Wait until she leaves and don't let her know I'm looking for her."

"Okay."

Lindsey flashed a smile and then hurried out, dialing Danny.

"Yeah?"

"We have her, Danny. She comes to this one at the end of town regularly. We need an unmarked on this place."

"I'll call the local sheriff. See what we can get."

"Okay. I'll call Stella."

Lindsey hung up and dialed again.

#

Mac looked up from the case file he was reading, watching Annie. She was typing again, lost in whatever she was working on. He leaned his head to the side, reading the titles on the spines.

"You have a lot of books on whales," he commented.

"Yes. I do."

"Why is that?"

She looked at him. "Is that pertinent to the case?"

"No." Mac leaned on the counter. "But I need a break."

She stood, looking at her watch. "It is noon. Are you hungry?"

"No. I just want to talk."

"If it doesn't pertain to the case, then we don't need to talk about it."

"I can't just be curious about what all those books are for?"

She didn't answer.

"Look, Annie, I just want to talk for a few minutes."

She slowly sat down again.

"It's my thesis."

"You're going to school?"

"I'll graduate this semester. Well, I will if I get this done and turned in on time."

"What are you going for?"

"Marine biology."

"That's pretty broad."

"Mammals."

Mac smiled, hoping it would help to disarm her a little more. "So this is your masters?"

She nodded.

"What school are you going to?"

She shook her head. "If it's not in the case file, that's none of your business."

"I noticed it said you didn't have any relatives."

"No."

"What happened?"

"My dad didn't have any family. My grandparents died when I was young. My uncle, her brother, died from cancer. My parents were killed in the towers."

Mac and Annie stared at each other. She looked away first.

"And so was Claire, from the look on your face," she said

"What?"

"You talked about her in your sleep again last night. Must be your wife. Was… Your wife."

Mac stopped talking. He didn't want to talk about Claire. She looked back at him.

"Not real comfortable talking about personal matters to a total stranger is it?" she asked.

"Not really."

"Then maybe you should stick to the case. If you honestly need a break, tell me that next time. Don't make it an excuse to extract information that you don't really care about."

"I didn't say I didn't care."

She didn't argue or respond to his comment. Mac picked up the case file, turning his attention away from her.

"I really need the coroner report, Annie."

She smirked, looking up at him. "Hello, Mister Coroner, I'm the person that stole my case evidence and files, kidnapped your boss, will you give me the autopsy reports and not tell anyone I've been here?"

Mac slowly looked up at her. It was the first time she'd even hinted at anger since this started.

"I don't need the sarcasm," he scolded.

"And I don't need stupid suggestions." She slammed a book shut and stood, walking through the plastic wall.

"I need to know the angle of the stab wounds, Annie."

"And I need my life back!" she yelled.

Mac wasn't sure what had set her off. He watched her sit down on the edge of the bed and then heard her crying.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked.

"I should have grabbed that. I should have known to check the files and I should have grabbed it."

"You couldn't have known Sid doesn't file things right away."

"I should have," she quietly replied.

"Maybe you could call him."

"Yes. _That_ won't give away where we're at."

Mac looked at the case file. So she was upset she'd made a mistake. No. She'd made a few others and this was her first melt down. He guessed that perhaps it was stress getting to her, and perhaps unstable.

"What if the DA's assistant called for the information? Does that happen?" Annie asked.

"Yeah," Mac lied. He actually didn't know, but on the off chance it didn't, that would help him.

She stood and came back, wiping her tears. "Write down the questions. I'll ask him." She pulled a cell phone out of her hip pocket. "Put his direct number on the paper. If I have to talk to anyone else but him we're not doing this."

"He has assistants."

"I mean it, Detective Taylor."

He didn't try to argue further. He wrote down the questions, and then added the phone number to the top. She took the paper and dialed the number.

After two rings a voice answered, "Morgue."

"May I speak to Doctor Sid Hammerback?"

"Yeah. Just a second." The assistant could be heard in the background calling for Sid. In a moment, Sid's voice came on the line. "This is Doctor Hammerback."

Annie smiled and her voice suddenly took on a very sultry tone. "Hello. This is Ange Jordan. I'm a new assistant to DA Tom Hillary. He asked me to call and see if you had any of the reports from the Jared Raspton case."

"Case number."

She looked at the case file under her hand, reading off the case number.

"Let me look here. Yeah. Yeah. Do you want me to fax it over?"

"Yes. However, we're not in the office right now. I was wondering if I could ask you a couple questions."

"Sure. What would you like to know?"

"Now, bear with me, I don't really understand all these medical terms."

Sid chuckled. "I'll bear. Shoot."

"How many stab wounds were above and below the sternum?"

"That's easy. All of them were above the sternum."

"And what was the cause of death?"

"Arterial hemorrhage."

"Arterial hemorrhage," she repeated. "Okay. Now, do you have the measurements of them?"

"Yeah, but it's on the report."

"I know, but if I could just get those down."

"On all eighteen?"

"Mm-hm."

"I don't have time to give all of them."

Annie's smile wilted. She closed her eyes for a moment. "Fine. Okay. Do not hang up, Doctor Hammerback."

"Who is this?"

"Do not hang up, do you hear me?" She looked at Mac. "You have exactly three minutes to get all this information. Three minutes." She handed the phone to Mac, looking at her watch. "Starting now."

"Sid," Mac said.

#

"MAC?" Sid cried. "Are you okay? Where are you?"

Everyone in the morgue looked up. An assistant came into the office. Sid quickly jotted down a note and handed it to him. The man looked at his sloppy handwriting: Go tell Adam to trace this call. NOW!

"No time for that, Sid. I need the measurements of the wounds."

The assistant ran off to obey.

"On all of them?"

#

"Four of the central ones should give me enough to work with. Were all the wounds located in left side of the chest?"

"Yeah. They were all focused on the heart."

"Okay. And at what angle."

"Two minutes," Annie quietly told him.

"They were all angled down. About ten degrees."

"If you had to guess, how tall do you think the assailant was?"

"Had to be at least at the same height."

#

Adam answered his phone. "Adam."

"Adam, there's a call on Sid's line. Trace it. It's Mac," the morgue assistant told him.

Adam dropped his phone, grabbed it, and ran over to a computer, shoving the lab tech out of his way.

"What the—" the woman said.

In the next lab Stella and Hawkes looked up, watching him type away furiously. The screens changed fast as he worked at getting a trace on the call.

#

"And how deep?" Mac asked.

"They were the full length of the blade."

Mac looked at the knife, then the diagram he'd sketched of the wounds. "The full length?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"There were hilt bruises on the skin."

"Time." Annie grabbed for the phone.

Mac jumped back. "Sid, I'm fine. Tell the others."

Annie yanked the phone away and powered it off. She fumbled with it as she pulled the cover off and pulled out the battery. When it wouldn't come off, she suddenly flung it across the room with an angry scream. The device hit the bricks and shattered into pieces. Mac didn't flinch or move, although he had half the mind to. She leaned against a cupboard and slid to the floor, hugging her knees tight as she cried.

In a place she couldn't see, in a place he'd never let her know about, he was conflicted. He wanted to comfort her. He wanted to tell her that he was starting to see many things in her case that were wrong. They may have sent an innocent woman to jail. He stood where he was because she had kidnapped him at gunpoint – he could see it in the holster at her side now and she was a threat even if she wasn't a murderess.

#

"STELLA!" Adam yelled.

She ran across the hall to him. He turned, pointing at the screen. "Danny and Lindsay are in the right spot. She disconnected the call before I could narrow it down much further, but the tower used was in Loch Sheldrake."

Stella called Lindsay.

"Lindsay," she answered.

"You guys stay there. She just let Mac call…" Stella looked at Adam. "Call who?"

"Sid."

"Sid?" Lindsay and Stella asked.

"Yeah."

"Why?" Lindsay asked.

"I don't know. Adam says the call was from that area. They are there Lindsay. Danny said the trace found refined iron. Are there iron mills in the area?"

"Four of them."

"Search them."

"Alright. We'll start looking."

Stella hung up and before she could dial it, the phone rang. _Sid_ displayed on the screen.

"Sid, what did he call about?"

"How'd you know—"

"Adam."

"He was asking questions about the Jared Raspton murder. He wanted autopsy details."

Stella looked around and grabbed a pen and paper. "Tell me what he asked."

Sid repeated the information to her. She stood up, picking up the pad of paper.

"Does anyone know how tall this woman is?"

"She's short," Hawkes said.

"Yeah. But how short?"

Adam turned back to the computer and pulled up her police record. "She's five foot two."

"And Jared Raspton was six foot three?" Stella asked Sid.

"Yes."

Hawkes took the pad of paper, looking at the sketch. "This can't be right."

"What's wrong?" Sid asked.

"Where the stab wounds up and angled?" Stella asked.

"No. Down and angled. How tall is the suspect?"

"Five foot two inches."

"There is no way a five foot two person could have made down angled stabs into a man standing six foot three. Not even standing on something. Annie Stohl wouldn't have had enough upper body strength for this murder, Sid."

"Unless there was an accomplice."

"That's true, but it sure sounded like he was leaning toward there not being one, which means that woman did not kill this man."

"Thanks, Sid." Stella closed her phone.

"We have a problem with this case, don't we?" Hawkes asked.

"Yeah."

She couldn't take her eyes off the sketch and a small, but crucial detail that the CSI on the case had overlooked. If Mac found this, heads were going to roll when he got back. If he got back…


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"I'm off to get food," Annie said as she walked away from the printer and sat the sheets that had come off next to her laptop.

"Don't forget the—"

"Hot and sour with won tons. Yes. I remember, Detective Taylor." She walked over to the bed and pulled on her sweatshirt and jacket.

"How about sweet and sour today?"

"Alright." She walked to the door, unlocking the locks, and left.

Mac listened and when he was sure she was gone, he lifted his foot onto the barstool and fiddled with the ankle cuff. After ten minutes, he gave up and walked over to an evidence box. He pulled out Jared's bagged clothes and laid them out; he wasn't going to open any of them unless he had a good reason. Mac grabbed the magnifying glass at the end of another counter and slowly started over the clothes.

#

Annie left the restaurant with a bag, passing people. To them she looked like a teenage boy and unnoticed by Lindsay and Danny sitting in their car across the street. Lindsay's phone rang.

"Hello?" she asked.

"A woman was here," the restaurant owner told her. "She ordered that soup. She has on a gray sweatshirt with a hood and black jacket."

Lindsay saw Annie a block down and pointed her out to Danny, repeating, "Gray sweatshirt with hood and black jacket."

Danny spotted her, nodding.

"We see her. Thank you."

"That's her?" Danny asked.

"Yeah," Lindsay nodded as she dialed another number. "Sherriff Webster. The suspect has been I.D.'d. She's heading west. We'll tail her until your men can apprehend her."

Danny started the car and followed. "We're not supposed to be doing this, you know," Danny told her.

"Do you see Mac or Stella here?"

He wagged his head side to side a little.

Annie tromped through waist high weeds, her mind wandering over the last seven days. Did her captive even realize it had been a week? She heard a car approaching on the dirt road in front of her and slowed as the police car stopped in front of her. The police officer in the passenger window rolled down the window.

"Hi," he said.

She stared at him; keeping far enough away that he'd have to get out to grab her and give her time to run.

"I haven't seen you around here before."

"Just moved here."

"Oh? By yourself?"

"No."

"With your family?"

"No."

"You're on private property. You need to leave."

She didn't reply or turn away.

"Did you know that?"

"I was just going across to the house on the other side. It's shorter than following the road. I didn't think anyone'd mind since this place is abandon."

"What house? There's several."

"I don't know. My classmates just drew me a map."

"Well, you're still trespassing. Why don't we give you a ride?" He opened the door, climbing out.

She backed away.

"Is there a problem?" the officer asked.

"I'll just go back and take the road. Thanks for the offer."

He rested his hand on his gun. "If you're so worried about your safety, we should give you a ride."

Annie heard a twig snap behind her and froze. She turned her head and from the corner of her eye, she saw two officers and Danny walking toward her. Annie dropped her bag and bolted – away from where she had hidden Mac.

The police and CSI chased her. The driver in the car turned around and followed along the road. Annie glanced at the wooded hillside. She darted across the road, heading into the woods.

Behind her, Danny separated from the officers and began closing in on her. Annie started up the hill with large steps, zigzagging to reserve her energy. Danny followed. She crested the hill and started down the other side. Danny used the loose dirt underfoot to slide and gain momentum to go past her. He disappeared behind a clump of tree and as she ran past, he lunged out, tackling her.

She screamed, punching and clawing at him. The sudden attack surprised Danny, but not enough to let go. He knew she was panicking, but his anger for her kidnapping Mac was much stronger. He spotted her gun under her coat as she reached for it. The two struggled for control over it. Suddenly it went off. When her fight didn't stop and he didn't feel a shot, he figured it had missed. He pushed her arms up, pinning her with his body. He wrestled the gun from her hand and tossed it aside. Loch Sheldrake deputies came sliding down the hill and they helped to get her handcuffed. Danny pulled a winter glove from his pocket and picked up the gun. His brow furrowed. He tested the weight in his hand.

"What is it?" the officer that had stopped her asked.

He aimed it at a tree and shot. The tree was unharmed.

"It's fake." He turned and stormed up to her. "You kidnapped Mac with a fake gun!?"

She didn't answer or look him in the eye.

"Get her back to the station!" Danny hissed.

They led her back over the hill. Danny looked at the gun again, testing the weight again. He looked up as Lindsay slid down the hill to him.

"What is it?"

"It's a toy gun. A fake. She kidnapped him with a fake gun."

Lindsay looked up at the retreating officers and suspect, and then the gun, and then Danny.

"That's a good thing," she said.

"How do you figure that?"

"She probably knew he wouldn't go willingly, but she clearly didn't want him hurt."

"Naw. No. She planned this too well."

"Danny, that's just it! She planned this too well. Didn't you hear Stella? The stab wounds are off. Maybe she really didn't kill Jared Raspton."

"Yeah? Well she _really_ kidnapped our boss. That makes her a criminal in any book." Danny headed up the hill.

Lindsay turned, following him.

#

Mac looked at his watch. It was three o'clock. What was taking Annie so long? She never took more than thirty minutes to get their lunch. He returned to slowly running a florescent flashlight over Jason's clothes. He stopped suddenly and went back to a hair. It fluoresced. He moved the light over the rest of the clothes and discovered at least four more hairs that fluoresced. He sat the light down and carefully cut the seal. He pulled on gloves, grabbed a pair of tweezers and reached in, removing one of the hairs. He sat it on a slide and tapped a plastic square over the hair, flattening it onto the slide. He moved to a microscope and slid it under. What he saw was an auburn colored hair, the same color as Annie's, but at the root and down to the tag it was almost black it was so dark brown. This wasn't Annie's hair. Mac pulled the slide off and prepared the tag of the hair for a DNA test.

He started that and then looked at his watch again, then the door. His worry had several levels. One was because he was beginning to sympathize with her – the more evidence he was finding that would have saved her, the more sympathy built right alongside the guilt he didn't catch it. In part because he was starting to get hungry and all that was in the refrigerator was an apple, yogurt, and a half bottle of water. The level that troubled him the most, the most practical one, was that if she was hurt and unable to tell anyone where he was, he was going to die here. She was the only one that knew how to unfasten the ankle cuff.

Mac looked at the case file, but his eyes stopped on the printed papers by her laptop. He walked over and picked them up, then sat down on the barstool. He skimmed the first page and realized it was her thesis. Mac picked up a pen and started reading it, making corrections as he read.

#

Annie stared at the table even when Danny walked in. Mud had dried on her clothes, face and hair forming stringy mats. Despite the grime, she was actually still quite attractive, but Danny didn't notice. He was outraged, angry, he hated her, and all he wanted from her right now was to know where to find Mac. Danny tossed a pad of paper and pen on the table.

"Draw me a map. Show me where you hid him," Danny ordered.

She didn't look up at him or the paper.

"Where is he, Annie?" Danny asked as he started circling her.

She didn't answer.

"Annie, you are going down for the murder of Jared Raspton. You have breaking and entering, robbery, and kidnapping on your record now. And if you don't tell us where he's at, and he dies, you'll have two counts of murder. You'll be in jail for a long, long, _long_ time."

Annie didn't answer.

"Come on, Annie," Danny said, leaning on the table in front of her. "You're caught. Just tell us where Mac is. Where'd you hide him? Did you kill him already?"

She barely shook her head.

"No? He's alive still?"

She didn't answer.

"Did you hurt him?"

She didn't answer.

Danny slammed his hands on the table. "DID YOU HURT HIM!?"

A tear slid down her face.

"Don't cry," Danny fulminated, "You don't get to cry!"

That only made her start crying more. She closed her eyes.

"WHERE IS MAC TAYLOR, ANNIE!?"

With shaking hands, she reached out and pulled the notepad and pen in the center of the table to her. She started drawing on it, labeling lines with street names. She put an X on the paper and pushed it across to him. He picked it up, looking it over before turning his glare back on her.

"He's here?"

She didn't answer.

"Is he here?"

She still didn't answer.

Danny ran his finger over his bottom lip for a moment. "I'm going to this spot and looking for him. If I don't find him, or I find him in less than good condition, I will have them throw the book at you." Danny leaned on the table, looking into her face. She still didn't look up. "Do ya hear me, Annie? You will go away for a very long time if I find you've done anything to hurt him. _Anything_."

She didn't answer him or stop crying. Danny left the room with the map, slamming the door behind him.

#

Mac looked up from the thesis when the printer started printing out the results from the hair tag. He pulled the sheet off, staring at it. He sat it down and turned, stretching to grab the sheet from the counter behind him. He sat the two side by side and in that second, he suddenly had all the reasonable doubt he needed to order the case re-opened and the evidence examined again.

Mac looked up when the locks on the door started rattling. He smiled, anticipating her face when he told her he might have found a second person that had been near Jared Raspton the day he died. The door opened and his smile faded when police came into the basement. Followed by Danny and Lindsay. Lindsay spotted him first.

"MAC!" she said, running to him.

He laughed a little when she hugged him viciously. Then she fell back, grabbing his face.

"Are you okay? You have a bearded!"

He couldn't help but laugh again. "I'm aware of that. Does anyone have a bolt cutter?" he rattled the chain. "You have Annie?"

Lindsay dropped to one knee to look at the ankle cuff. "Yeah. She's being transported to New York now. What the hell is this?"

Mac looked up, seeing an officer reaching for a bag of evidence.

"NO!" Mac bellowed.

It silenced the room. He looked at Lindsay and Danny.

"All the evidence has to be collected and taken back to the lab. It can't be contaminated," Mac told them.

She nodded.

"We'll go through the entire place."

"No. Lindsay. The Jared Raspton evidence. I need all of it taken back to the lab by you or Danny."

He watched Danny slowly walk toward him.

"I've only opened two of the bags, so we can still consider the rest uncontaminated. I'll figure out a way to get the lawyers to accept the rest."

"Wait… Are you saying… You want to run all this evidence for her? You want to prove she was innocent?"

"She _is_ innocent, Danny. We, no, not we, _I_ messed up. I signed off on this case and I never should have. There is so much wrong with it that any lawyer worth their salt would have pressed to have it thrown out."

"Boss," Danny started, lowering his voice. "Are you sure you're okay? You know… Sometimes when people are kidnapped they… You know…"

Mac gave him a long, cool stare. Danny didn't back down.

"Danny, we may have sent an innocent woman to prison. I can't have that in my lab."

Danny nodded. "Right. Okay."

Lindsay looked at the thesis paper. She pointed at it. "Is this hers?"

Mac looked at it. "Yeah."

Lindsay looked up at him, watching his face as he stared at it. She patted Mac's shoulder and then left to hunt down bolt cutters.

#

The door of the interrogation room opened but Annie didn't look up. The person entering grabbed a chair and brought it around, sitting it next to her. They sat their foot on it and she looked down at the ankle cuff they revealed when they pulled their pant leg up. She looked up at Mac.

"Do you mind?" he asked.

Without hesitation, she unfastened and pulled it off. He took it from her and then sat down. He looked over the cuff.

"Was it really Houdini's?"

"Said so on eBay."

The two shared a slight smile. Mac held her eyes.

"You're in a lot of trouble. You know that, don't you?"

She slowly nodded.

"We're going to run the evidence here at the lab so it won't be omissible. I've called in a favor with a friend for you. This time you'll have a competent lawyer. Until he gets here, don't talk to anyone. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

"Do you need anything?"

She smiled a little, looking at the table.

"My soup grew on you, didn't it?" he asked with a smile.

She smiled a little more, nodding.

"I'll see what I can do. Hang in there." He stood.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you doing this now?"

"Because I'm a CSI, Annie, and I overlooked details I shouldn't have."

"So you're doing this for you?"

"The end result ends up being for you, so does it matter?"

She held his eyes, not speaking for a minute. Quietly she said, "If you don't think Claire wouldn't care, then no."

Mac looked down at the cuff in his hand. He looked back into her eyes and gave her a single nod. Mac turned and left the room. Outside his CSI and Flack quickly emerged from the observation room thirty-one.

"What are you doing?" Flack asked. "They're sending up officers to question her in your kidnapping."

"Hawkes, I want you to pull out the clothes and look for an auburn hair that fluoresces. Run the tag and then run it against all the suspects and witnesses from the case. Danny, under the hilt of the knife, there's blood of both Jared and someone else. I want that DNA and see if it matches the hair Hawkes is going to find. Stella, go over her case files and find all the errors in it. There are a lot. While Hawkes and Danny are waiting for DNA results, they can help you work through the ten hours of her interview."

"Ten hours?" Stella asked.

"Yeah, and it's not pretty to watch. Lindsay, you and I need to go over the stab wounds. We have to figure out how tall the person that stabbed Jared really was because that person certainly wasn't five foot two. I'll meet you in the lab after I'm done talking to Flack."

His team left with their separate assignments. Mac finally turned his attention to Flack.

"I should have caught this, Don. I should have seen these errors and I didn't. Her being in jail is my fault."

"She kidnapped you."

"She did. But she told Danny where I was and I don't believe she ever planned on hurting me."

"You don't know that."

"Something in me does."

"Are you sure this isn't something… else?"

"Like?"

"Well, it's not unheard of that a captive starts having feelings for their captor. So—"

"No, Don, this isn't Stockholm Syndrome. This is me trying to make amends for nearly destroying a young woman's life. Okay?"

Flack slowly nodded. "Okay."

"I want you to watch out for her. Don't let anyone infringe on her rights again."

"You got it."

Mac turned to leave but stopped, staring through the window of the door. Flack looked into the room. Annie was leaning on the table with her head buried in her arms. She shook every so often from crying.

"Go on," Flack told him. "I'll watch out for her."

Mac left. Flack grabbed a box of Kleenex from the observation room and went into the room. He sat down in the chair next to her and held a Kleenex out to her. She took it.

"Do you need anything? Is there anyone I should call?" Flack asked her.

She didn't answer, just as Mac had told her not to. Flack sat the box down on the table and leaned on the table, waiting silently next to her.

#

Michelle Raspton was a tall woman; she was five foot nine. Her dark brown – almost black -- hair was neatly styled, with not a strand out of place. She stood at the observation room window, watching Flack and Annie. Mac entered carrying a folder and stopped beside her, looking at Flack and Annie for a moment.

Annie had her arm straight out on the table and her head laying on it. She stared at the wall. Flack sat across from her, fiddling with his cell phone. Mac was proud of the Detective. He'd gone beyond what Mac had asked and had taken on her personal protection. He even threw the Detectives who tried questioning her out when they became hostile toward her for kidnapping Mac, telling them he'd handle questioning her from now on. It took him five days to gain her trust, but she had finally opened up to him and trusted him as much as she now trusted Mac. So, when Mac and his CSI found the real murder, he let Flack tell her, and ask her to help them. All she had to do was sit in the room and wait – there would be no questions for her today and the microphone would not be recording her voice.

"That's her. That's my ex-husband's killer. Are you the one that asked me to come down her to identify her?" Michelle asked, and without waiting, added. "I can't believe someone so young would be such a monster."

Mac looked at her. She didn't see the look. She didn't see the anger that was in the cold stare he held on her. She didn't feel the rage he was holding back.

"I was going over the case file," Mac began. "You told the CSI that interviewed you that you were at a play when he was killed."

"Yes. I was at The Farnsworth Invention."

Mac looked over a sheet. "You said it was a seven o'clock show on a Saturday? Is that correct?"

"I guess so. That was over three months ago. I don't remember."

"That's what I have here in your statement."

"Then I guess that is correct. Why?"

Stella came in, handing him a paper. She moved around to the window, watching Flack and Annie.

Mac looked over the paper and then looked back up at Michelle. "That play wasn't showing at seven o'clock on Saturdays."

"I don't remember, Detective… I'm sorry. What was your name?"

"Mac Taylor."

"Oh! She kidnapped you. It was all over the news. I'm glad you're alright."

Mac didn't acknowledge the statement. "You said you hadn't seen or spoken to your ex-husband at all that day."

"I rarely spoke to him, and almost never saw him. So I guess that's right. Why are you asking all these questions?"

"Just clearing up some facts."

She smiled. "Oh."

"So why was he in your apartment when he was murdered?"

Stella slowly looked back at Mac, then at Michelle. Her attention turned to Michelle.

"He stopped by sometimes when he was in the area and needed to freshen up."

"But you just said you rarely saw him."

"That's right. He had a key, came and went as he pleased."

"Right." Mac looked at the papers again, flipping a few pages over. "So I guess that would explain how your hair got on his clothes."

"My hair?"

He nodded, looking up at her. "Yes. There were several of your hairs on his shirt. And judging from the root growth, you must have dyed it auburn maybe four weeks before."

"I don't dye my hair."

"You don't?" Stella asked.

"No."

She leaned over Mac's shoulder, pulling a paper free. "So you didn't go to Stylz three weeks earlier and request Chocolate Almond."

"Oh! Yes. I did. I was presenting awards at my ladies club."

"Did you know that color matches Annie's hair color?" Mac asked.

"No. I didn't. What are the chances?"

"Pretty good for someone trying to pin the murder of her ex-husband on someone else," Mac told her. "We've been doing some digging, Mrs. Raspton. Turns out your husband divorced you on grounds of infidelity, which nullified your prenuptial agreement and took away all your rights to his estate. But not his will. He hadn't changed that. You were still in there for three-quarters of his estate and money. However, in order to get to that, ahe'd have to be dead. The day he was murdered, you called him three times from your apartment. Then you called On Time Delivery and requested Annie as the delivery person. You told her supervisor that you'd be there in a very narrow window. Seven-thirty to eight, the time she showed up. But the problem is, Mrs. Raspton, you left behind hair on his clothes, and blood was under the handle of the knife you used." Mac referred to the folder. "You told the CSI that questioned you, when he asked about a bandage on your hand, that you had cut it while on a yacht with some friends." Mac looked up at her. "To cooperate, you allowed them to photograph the cut." Mac held up the photo. "It's the kind of wound we'd see on someone who cut herself while stabbing her husband eighteen times, and aiming for his heart."

"I didn't do this. She did." Michelle pointed into the room.

"There is no physical way that Annie could have killed your ex-husband at the angle of the stab wounds, Mrs. Rapston. Only someone who stood at a similar height could have done that, which you do. You killed your husband, and then framed Annie."

"Her finger prints were all over the knife."

"Yeah. They were. She grabbed it to keep Jared from pulling." Mac answered. "Annie has maintained her first aid certificate for the last twelve years, so what she did was to save his life. And that is exactly what the neighbor said she told him, and exactly what the paramedics interviewed said she should have done. She wasn't trying to kill him, she was trying to save him."

"Why would she try to save him? She claims Jared raped her. That's more than enough motive!"

"Because she isn't the monster you are, or your husband was."

"She kidnapped you!" Michelle yelled at Mac. "How can you defend her?"

"She kidnapped me because of _you_ and I'm not defending her, I'm following the evidence, which leads right to you. Arrest Mrs. Raspton," Mac ordered the officer.

"This is preposterous!" Michelle cried out as the officer handcuffed her and they left the room.

Stella watched her leave and then looked back at Mac. He was watching Annie and Flack. She tugged on the folder, getting his attention.

"I'll go take care of this paperwork, Mac. I think you have some business to take care of before it leaves the building."

Mac smiled, letting her take the folder. He went into the interrogation room and crouched beside Annie.

"Time to go."

"Back to jail?" she asked.

"Yes."

She sat up and stood. Flack walked around and handcuffed her. The three walked out of the room with her and around to the elevators. Flack tapped the call button.

"Am I still being charged with murder?" Annie asked him.

"No."

She nodded, looking away.

"But you still have charges of robbery and impersonating an officer. Most of the places you stole from have dropped charges on the robbery, but the City of New York isn't one and they'll be asking for the most."

The elevator doors opened and they got on.

"Isn't kidnapping pretty bad?"

"I'm not pressing charges. Oh, and your thesis was turned in on time. Your professor is confident you'll graduate."

She looked up at him and he held her gaze.

"Why'd you do that?

"I think Claire would have appreciated it."

Flack looked at Mac, surprised by his answer.

Annie wasn't. She looked away, softly telling him, "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

The doors opened but Mac didn't follow them off.


End file.
